But my head . . . my stubborn head wins again. And I plant my feet, watching him almost fall apart in front of me, and not doing a dang thing about it.
“Sometimes it’s not about love, then,” I argue pathetically. “Maybe I’m just trying to be a good person.”
“Yeah, letting people pay you so they can go shack up with whoever they want and not get in trouble for it. That sounds real Christian of you.”
Ouch. No . . . ouch doesn’t even cover it. I didn’t think someone could hurt me as much as I hurt right now. And it’s not that he said it, or even the way he said it. It’s the fact he’s right.
I hate it when everyone is right. When the reasons make sense to me but when I use them to argue everyone battles me down with common sense. It makes me feel stupid, and angry.
“Can you just drop it? I get how you feel, but I’m not changing anything. It’s who I am and you knew that. So leave it alone.”
“I won’t leave it alone.” Instead of moving back again, like I expect him to, he comes closer. “You’re my girlfriend, and I love you. If you think I’m going—”
“Your what?!” I shriek, and my ears ring from the echoes. “No, no, no. I’m not your girlfriend. When did you start thinking that?”
He jolts back, his mouth open and eyebrows pulled down. “What are you then? What are we?”
I don’t answer. There is no answer to that question. After studying my face for what feels like forever, his brows relax, but his mouth tightens.
“Oh.”
He swims to the edge and hoists himself out of the pool. The shirt I tossed off him makes a squelching noise as he rings it out. “Sorry. I misunderstood what this was.” He nods back and forth between me and him.
Because I’m an idiot, I say, “Are you mad?”
“No.”
Liar.
“You’re lying.”
His eyes snap to mine, and they’ve turned a lighter green. “You’re right. I am mad.”
I throw my arms up on the edge of the pool, resting my chin on my wrists. “What can I do? Please . . . I don’t want you to leave mad.”
“Why not? It’s not like you love me or anything. Or even care enough about me to want to spend more than Friday night. What’s the big deal about me leaving angry?”
“Because I-I still want to have Fridays with you.” I know it’s pointless, but I try to lighten the mood anyway. “You’re my Friday Night Guy.”
His expression softens, but not enough. He sighs as he tugs his shirt back on. Crouching next to the pool edge, looking at me with those light green eyes, he says, “I can’t, Kel. It’s one or the other.”
“What do you mean?”
“Quit the alibi thing, and I’ll stick around. But, I won’t if you’re going to keep it up. I can’t see it anymore—what it’s doing to you. To us.” He wipes the crease from my forehead. “Because no matter what you think, there is an us. I’ll wait for you to feel it, too, but only if you quit.”
He stands upright, tossing a towel over his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll find my way out.”
My heart pounds again, wishing it could jump out of my chest and go with him.
Chapter 32
I can’t believe it’s already the week before school starts. Mom insisted the Finnigans join us for this big our-kids-are-so-grown-up dinner, because that doesn’t have disaster written all over it, but surprisingly, things go pretty drama free. Everybody seemed real nice and smiley. No breakdowns, though Dad was awfully quiet.
Alex even leaves giving me a kiss on the cheek and a “Thanks, Kel.” He then books me for the next night. So, we’re back to the norm. Tennis, work, and Friday nights alone.
I blow out a breath and organize the newly formed packets on my bed. Reds and blues, all set aside and ready for the new school year. College may be a little different since some of my clients aren’t living at home anymore, but keeping their significant other on the down low is still superimportant.
I know, you’re all wondering “What about Chase?!” Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? I’m too much of a chicken to listen to my heart—yes, gagworthy cheesiness—and I’m listening to what’s logical. What makes sense to me.
Routine, with no emotions whatsoever. For real this time.
So, I haven’t seen or talked with Chase since the night in the pool. Which to me, seems like forever and a day, but it was really only like, two weeks ago. Still, two Fridays without him, plus no FB chats or online games . . . I’m feeling the pain of losing something I could’ve had and really liked.
All because I’m a stubborn and scared little girl. You can say it. I know it’s true.
A tap echoes through my room, and my eyes zap to my balcony, but no one’s there.
“Kelli?” Dad cracks open the door. My dad, coming into my room? Whoa! Mark it down in your calendars, people.
“Um . . .” I slide all the packets together and stuff them in my desk drawer. “Yeah, come in.”
He opens the door all the way, leaving his hand on the handle. His eyes rake over my room like it’s the first time he’s seen it, which I guess, is true in a way. I don’t remember the last time he’s been in here. Not since I’ve been the alibi, and I’ve gotten a lot of electronic goodies since then.
Taking cautious steps in, he pauses at my wall shelf. My books, trophies, certificates, and pictures are all organized the way Carrie does it right after she dusts, leaving them looking more like a display case in a museum.
He picks up a frame, a tiny smile peeking from the corner of his mouth. I don’t know which pic he’s looking at, but he stares at it forever.
“I used to have a name for you when you were younger,” he says, breaking the tense silence and putting the frame back on the shelf.
I nod, hoping my voice works after not using it for so long. “Potato Bug.”
“You remember.” His mouth quirks up again, wrinkling the corners of his eyes. “You’d always curl up whenever I’d hold you, like a—”
“Potato Bug.”
His face falls with my tone. I don’t mean to sound so short with him, but it’s just a reminder of how he doesn’t call me anything anymore.
He turns so he’s facing me head on, and not eyeing my shelf. Running a hand through his perfectly thick brown hair, he says, “I think you deserve an explanation.”
“Um, what?”
Walking over to my plush couch, he waves for me to follow.
Okay . . .
I sit cross-legged, facing him with probably the dumbest look on my face. Because he’s looking at me like he’s the one who got caught with a hickey. He rolls up his cuffs on his crisp shirt that smells like cooking oil. Then he loosens his tie before interlocking his shaking fingers.
This is beyond weird.
He takes a deep breath, then unleashes his voice so fast it takes me a second to catch up with what he’s saying.
“Your mother has always been successful. Her business as a wedding planner made enough money to buy anything she or I wanted. You know that, because this house was paid for with her money. There was only one thing I wanted, and it wasn’t to be more successful than her. I only wanted a baby girl, and to spend as much time with her as I could.”
I blink a few times when he pauses to look at me with his bright blue eyes. I’m still clueless where he’s going, but since this is the longest conversation I’ve had with my dad in who knows how long, I nod, encouraging him to keep plowing through.
“When you were born, it really was the happiest moment of my life. I wanted nothing more than to spend every minute with you, which was why I stayed home so long. It was what I wanted, and your mother was okay working and holding up the business side of things so I could be happy . . . with you.”
Wow. Didn’t know that. I really thought he was only at home with me because Mom was so busy all the time and he couldn’t find a job. Not that he didn’t want one.
Well, he seems to like having one now.
He takes an
other breath and it comes out all broken and hitched. Holy crap! Is he crying?
“My biggest regret was when I let all the snide remarks get to me. When I allowed them to take me from what I wanted. Just so I could prove something to them. But I didn’t feel good enough. Not for you. Not for your mother. Not for—”
“Sundale.”
He nods, his eyes watering but refusing to let anything fall. I slide a little closer to him.
“I tried making things better for you. I gave you everything, hoping that was making up for not being around. And the worst part is, I really, truly believed I was doing the right thing.”
“Dad . . .”
“I became obsessed with work. I liked feeling the approval of everyone in the community. I liked taking your mother on lavish vacations every weekend. I threw myself into the business and forgot everything else. I forgot the most important thing.”
He reaches over and tucks one of my very short strands of blond hair behind my ear. I grab his hand and keep it in mine, sliding close enough now that my knees touch his thigh.
“I don’t know my little girl,” he says, his voice cracking in all the places that make the tears well up in my eyes. Usually I’m so good at keeping things together, shut off emotions and take it like I’m supposed to. But with him squeezing my fingers, falling apart next to me . . . because of me . . . nothing will stop the river threatening to flow from my eyeballs.
“I-it’s okay, Dad. I know you’re busy.”
He starts shaking his head before I even finish. “It’s not okay, Kelli. It’s not okay I don’t know who your best friend is. That I don’t know why you got your hair cut. That I don’t know if you still like tennis, if you still work at the bookstore, if you enjoy church . . . It’s not okay.”
“Sadie Poulsen is my best friend,” I say softly, wishing my voice wasn’t so juicy from holding back all the feelings stirring up in my chest. “I love tennis, and play every Saturday at the club. I work at the bookstore Monday through Friday, but my schedule will change with school starting. And I like church.” I pause, suddenly finding a loose thread in the couch very interesting. “I-it’s the only time I . . . I get to be with my parents. The only time I feel like we’re a . . .”
I let the thought drift, not daring to look at him. He tilts my chin up anyway, and I see a single tear escaped the dam he put in his eyes. It strolls down his cheek as he finishes my sentence. “A family.”
I nod, and not one tear, but several break loose cascading down my face like a flash flood. Embarrassing as ever, especially with my daddy, but I can’t stop them now that they’ve started.
“I’m sorry,” he says, squeezing my hands. “I’ve wasted a lot of time ignoring what was important. That’s why I’m talking to you now, before I lose the chance to make things right.”
He gives me a half smile as I control my tears.
“I’m going to be home more,” he promises. “And I’m going to go to your tennis matches, have dinner with you, take you out. I’m going to get to know my daughter in the small time we have together before she decides to go off on her own, if she’ll let me.”
I nod, nearly wiggling my head off my neck. He better mean what he’s saying, because it sounds like heaven.
“I’m also going to get to know the Finnigan boy. I shouldn’t have found out about you two the way I did, but that’s my fault, not yours. And if I was the parent I’m supposed to be . . . well, that dinner would’ve gone a lot . . . smoother.”
A crash wave of guilt swims over me, and because I’m already cascading into an emotional pit, I let the truth tumble from my lips.
“Alex isn’t my boyfriend, Daddy.”
His perfectly trimmed eyebrow rises. “Oh? Then why did you tell us he was?”
“It’s a little, well, complicated,” I say in the lamest way ever. “He’s not my boyfriend, never was, but his parents think we’re dating because I was trying to help him out with something . . .” I stop, blowing out a puff of air that wiggles my bangs off my forehead.
Dad keeps that eyebrow raised. “That does sound complicated.”
“He really is just a friend.”
“Not special to you?”
“Not like that, no.”
“Hmm,” Dad grunts. “Forgive me for asking, but do all your friends give you, uh . . .” He motions to his neck real fast while his face goes bright red. I’m sure mine is the same color.
“Oh, that. Well, that wasn’t from Alex. He was just as surprised as you were.”
Dad turns his face into mine with a look of death like, you-better-tell-me-who-this-hickey-boy-is-so-I-can-kill-him.
“Explain.”
Am I already starting to miss nonchalant Daddy? Holy yikes!
“Well, there was someone special.” Even as it comes out, I know it’s true. Chase was special. Is special. Oh heck, I don’t know. But he means bunches to me, even when I tried to keep him way far away—emotionally—he still wriggled himself in there. And even though I don’t think my parents will dangle my trust fund in front of me to date a Sundale resident, Chase would be worth risking it anyway.
“Was?”
I nod, cheeks blazing. “But, um, I kind of messed it up, I think.”
Dad’s neck veins are throbbing, but his voice is all gentle and soft. “Is he still special to you?”
My heart pounds superhard. Just thinking about the weeks without him makes the flood want to reappear.
“Yes.”
He clears his throat, fingers tightening on my hand. “Well, I say try to fix it, before you lose your chance. If he’s that important to you. But, Kelli . . .”
“Yeah?”
“I want to meet him. Perhaps show him my gun collection.”
I laugh, realizing my face still isn’t dry as the chuckles send tears off the bottom of my chin. “You don’t have a gun collection.”
“My cutlery, then.” He smiles, patting my leg.
We sit like that for a while, I’m sure his mind is going a million ways, but mine is on one track. And it’s all about how much I’ve missed this with my dad. How happy I am he’s in my room, talking to me. Even when it’s about boys!
“Hey, Dad?”
“Yes?”
“C-can . . . can you hold me?”
Without hesitation at all, he opens his arms and I crawl in them, curling up against his white shirt, forehead grazing his smooth chin.
“My potato bug,” he chuckles, and squeezes my shoulders. Cheesy, Dad, real cheesy.
But I like this cheesy, and I’ll be asking for it every time I can.
I snuggle into his chest, smiling and crying all at once. Smiling because Dad feels so familiar, like something from my childhood I’d lost and now I get to keep with me for as long as I need. And crying because I want to call Chase the second Dad leaves my room. I want to tell him about this, because he’s the only one who’ll understand how much it means.
But I can’t.
I’m still . . . an alibi.
My eyes sneak a peek under Dad’s arm, at my desk drawer where all my newly formed packets are. All ready to be used for the holidays.
Try to fix it, before you lose your chance. If he’s that important to you.
My heart, my body, and everything else knew before my head did. My stubborn head is finally catching up.
The second Dad leaves, I’m paying a visit to the paper shredder.
Chapter 33
“What’s this?” Alex eyes the lump of cash I put in his fist. He has to grab it with two hands to keep it from falling all over the tennis court.
“It’s all the money you gave me for being your alibi,” I say, crossing my arms. “You should have it back.”
His eyes widen as he flips through the bills. “Why . . . ?”
“Because I gave you a guarantee. One I can’t do anymore.”
He drops his mouth open with a small pop. “Wait, what?”
I smile, sticking my ground. It isn’t hard to do either, be
cause it’s always been business with me and Alex. That’s why he walked in on me naked without even blinking. Why he kissed me and held my hand and treated me like a girlfriend all professionally. Because what we have is business. Nothing more.
And I’m leaving the business. Because I don’t need anyone to need me.
“I’m not going to be an alibi anymore. I’m done.”
The boyish grin that was on his face disappears as he realizes it’s not some big joke. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I can’t be your alibi anymore, Alex. I’m sorry.”
“But . . . but . . . why?”
Poor guy looks like he swallowed a bucket of bleach. The hand holding the money clenches into a fist as he stares at me, almost begging me with his eyes to say, “Just kidding!”
I’m so not kidding.
“Lots of reasons, but I guess the main one is, I don’t want to pretend to have fun instead of actually doing it.”
He stands stone still, same look on his face.
I sigh. “I know it’s totally selfish.”
A gulp goes down his throat, making his Adam’s apple humongo. “I understand, Kel. I’m just . . . I don’t know how I’m going to . . .”
“Hey,” I say, uncrossing my arms and taking a step toward him, “you said Brianne was important, right?”
He nods. “I love her.”
“Then she’s more important than the money. Or she should be.”
A hint of that boyish grin appears at the corners of his mouth. He pulls me into an unexpected hug, which shouldn’t be unexpected anymore because this guy always hugs people.
“Thanks, Kel.” He pulls back. “I’m not sure if I’m ready to . . . I’ll figure it out. You’re right though.”
My eyes crinkle together as I watch the gears go crazy in his mind. At least he doesn’t seem pissed off. After what happened with the hickey incident, that’s what I expected. “So, you’re not mad?”